


Let It

by Try2CatchMe



Series: Sanctuary 'verse [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Try2CatchMe/pseuds/Try2CatchMe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"On the drive to Minnesota, Adam had gotten Samandriel to fill him in on all the blanks he was missing, which was a hell of a long story. All the details of the Apocalypse, the roles his brothers had played, the role he'd played, the war in Heaven afterwards, Dean's angel's brief bout of insanity, followed by death, then more insanity, then death again? That part was fuzzy, apparently. Purgatory was involved, Leviathans, prophets, the King of Hell.</p><p>It was then that Adam found out that no one had sent Samandriel to get him out. Samandriel had been being tortured in the depths of Hell by the head honcho and instead of booking it out of there ASAP, he'd stuck around to drag Adam, whose body and soul had apparently been shreds at that point, back out with him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let It

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who got the day off work and spent it writing fanfiction instead of doing homework?

Griffin and Elise were staring at him like they were hoping he'd hop up and shout 'just kidding', and he'd really like to, but he just stared back at them.

Mostly that was because he couldn't get up.

Samandriel had, about an hour into the explanation, slumped against Adam's shoulder and conked out. Adam wasn't sure if that should be weird or not. Did angels need sleep? Maybe Alfie's body did? He couldn't remember if Michael had ever slept, but being an archangel's vessel was kind of like being steamrolled by the sun, so it might have happened? Maybe? Besides, Samandriel seemed fine.

Occasionally he'd make a little whistling noise through his nose and try to worm his way closer.

Adam tried not to find this as horribly endearing as it actually was.

He would absolutely deny it to his dying day, anyway.

Griffin opened his mouth, drew breath to say something, then snapped in closed. It was the fifth time that had happened in three minutes.

On the drive to Minnesota, Adam had gotten Samandriel to fill him in on all the blanks he was missing, which was a hell of a long story. All the details of the Apocalypse, the roles his brothers had played, the role _he'd_ played, the war in Heaven afterwards, Dean's angel's brief bout of insanity, followed by death, then more insanity, then death again? That part was fuzzy, apparently. Purgatory was involved, Leviathans, prophets, the King of Hell.

It was then that Adam found out that no one had sent Samandriel to get him out. Samandriel had been being tortured in the depths of Hell by the head honcho and instead of booking it out of there ASAP, he'd stuck around to drag Adam, whose body and soul had apparently been shreds at that point, back out with him.

So Adam's previous philosophy of 'screw all the angels except Samandriel (and maybe Michael a bit, since he'd apparently patched Adam back together with angelic super glue)' was pretty accurate. Shocker.

"So he," Elise found her voice first which was really not surprising and pointed at Samandriel, "is an angel?"

"Yup," Adam tried to shift his shoulder a bit to get the blood flow back to his fingers. All the served to accomplish was causing the angel's head to flop off his shoulder and into his lap, where Samandriel proceeded to drool on his leg with all the dignity befitting his station.

At least Adam could feel his fingers now.

Elise gave Samandriel a horribly skeptical look, but soldiered on, "And you were in Hell? This whole time?"

"Heaven for a couple months, but then Hell, yeah."

"And all that shit going down around then," Griffin piped up, "That was the Apocalypse?"

"Yup."

"And your long-lost brothers stopped it."

"My life is a soap opera. A horrible, supernatural soap opera." Adam's fingers itched for a water bottle. He contemplated sitting on them.

"You know," Elise kicked up her feet, stacking her boots heel to toe on top of each other, "That actually explains a lot."

Her older brother looked at her like he was worried for her sanity.

"Oh come on," she gestured to the couch, "You couldn't miss those wings earlier. And you broke Adam's nose yourself and he's fine now. And if you look at these last few years like something supernatural was going on, doesn't everything make a lot more sense?"

"Given a relative definition of _sense_." Griffin said slowly.

"So what's going on now?" Elise asked, leaving her brother to grapple with a paradigm shift bigger than most continents on his own.

"I don't know and I don't care. I'm out, the supernatural can just go back into the shadows where it belongs, I don't care anymore."

"What about Samandriel?"

"Samandriel stays." Adam knew even as he was saying it that he had no idea if it was true or not, but he wanted it to be. The amount of time the angel had pulled him out of his own mind made him convinced he'd be insane in an hour without him. Besides, he and Alfie were at least entertaining, in a schizophrenic sort of way.

He steadfastly ignored the fact that Samandriel was now hugging one of his legs.

Griffin rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, "It's five a.m., I'm not awake enough for this."

Standing, Elise patted her brother on the arm, acting about a decade older than she actually was, as was per usual, "Come on, we'll get a motel room. You'll feel better after you sleep."

"Lock the door behind you," Adam said, because there was no way he was getting up. He couldn't feel his leg anymore and tripping would suck. And, okay, it'd be loud too and probably wake up Samandriel, but that had no bearing on his choice.

At all.

Elise pushed Griffin out the door, locked it, then shut it behind them.

The quiet should have been eerie, or spooky, or at least disconcerting with the only sound being Samandriel's soft breathing and that weird whistling thing he did.

It wasn't.

At some point he must have drifted off because the next thing he knew sunlight was streaming in through the windows, he was on his back on the couch with one of the throw pillows tucked under his head, and Samandriel had just shaken him awake with one hand on his chest.

The angel smiled softly, "Griffin demanded you wake up because he 'paid good money' for breakfast."

Adam groaned and stretched slowly, hearing several miscellaneous bones crack, before he curled into the back of the couch, perfectly content to tell the world to amuse itself for a few more hours.

Then he smelled something familiar and hot and very, very close.

He peeked over one of his arms and saw Samandriel looking in bemusement at a mug in his hands.

"Elise said I would need this to wake you properly. What is it? Alfie said it's a cure for zombies, but no such thing exists."

Adam refused to be coherent this early and instead just reached over and plucked the cup out of Samandriel's hands. The coffee was warm enough to make him feel it down to his toes, but not so hot it hurt. With just enough cream to take the edge off, it was perfect.

From the kitchen, Griffin shouted, "Get in here you two, you're eating this even if it's cold!"

Finally awake enough to form sentences, Adam shot back, "Hey, I've got five years on you still and I _will_ kick your ass."

"Yeah right, the date on your license might make you twenty-five, but you're still nineteen biologically, which makes me two years older than you."

"It's too early for philosophizing."Adam growled, flapping his hand at Samandriel, who complacently gave him a hand up and was clearly trying to look like he wasn't finding everything pleasantly odd.

"Actually," The angel said, "Adam's combined time in Heaven and the Cage puts him well over six hundred, so I believe in even if his body is younger, he is still your senior."

"The angel has spoken, now get in here or I will eat all of your food." Elise threatened.

If Adam's memories of little-Elise were anything to go by, she was perfectly qualified to make good on that threat. He dragged Samandriel into the kitchen with him.

The smell, which yesterday had been so pervasive, had greatly diminished over the night the windows had been opened and had been replaced by a mouthwatering scent that just about dropped Adam into his chair.

There was a little diner a couple of miles away that served breakfast to die for. He and his mom used to go there for special occasions.

Elise slid a Styrofoam contained over to him. It popped open easily enough and revealed a small stack of pancakes. He swallowed, "Thanks."

She handed him a water bottle and grinned.

Breakfast was apparently actually a very late lunch, considering it was almost two in the afternoon. Evidently, the diner now served breakfast all day, Adam made a mental note to abuse this information.

The meal was spent getting Samandriel to try all the different kinds of food (and Griffin had bought a lot because he had no idea what the angel would prefer) and making bets on what his favorite would be. The angel clearly didn't play favorites because instead of going with pancakes with strawberry syrup like any sensible person would, he instead declared Elise's suggestion of sausages dipped in maple syrup his favorite and proceeded to eat all of it.

And then, just for fun, he polished off the eggs too and proceeded to claim it was Alfie who wanted them.

Yeah, Adam wanted to keep him around.

After that, they went into the living room. Samandriel was relegated to the couch because, after seeing the tattered outlines of his wings last night, Adam knew he still had a lot of healing to do. Maybe he couldn't put his first aid training to use on metaphysical limbs, but he could still have the guy rest.

Griffin and Adam spent the rest of the day cleaning under the tyrannical regime of Elise, who spent her time on the phone coercing, pleading with, and threatening various county personnel to get Adam's electricity, heat, and water turned back on.

Adam changed his mind, Elise had gotten scarier with age.

He wasn't entirely sure how it happened, but just as the sun started to set, the lights in the house came on. The hum of electricity no one noticed until it was gone buzzed in his ears and, with a grin, he flung his current rag over one shoulder and strode to the old turntable in the corner.

The rest of the evening was spent with the background sound of Frank Sinatra. Samandriel perched himself on the arm of the couch, watching the record go round and round like it was some kind of angelic brainwashing machine. He was going to get dizzy sooner or later, Adam noted dimly.

Eventually, Elise and Griffin had to leave. Elise was still in school and had already missed a day as it was. They promised to come back over the weekend, though. Well, Griffin threatened to run Adam over with his car if he wasn't there when they got back, but same difference.

Adam flopped onto the couch and grinned at the horrible popcorn ceiling, watching the blades of the ceiling fan overhead create flickering shadows.

"You seem pleased." Samandriel observed from the other end of the couch.

Adam grinned and poked the angel with a toe, "It's been a good day."

Samandriel gave a serene smile at that before turning back to the record player, which was now crooning out _Let it Be_ , "I like this song."

Snorting, Adam closed his eyes, "Figures angels are Beatles fans."

"Well, this angel is, at least."

Adam was still chuckling at that when there was a knock on the door. Groaning, he rolled onto his feet to answer it, assuming one of his cousins had forgotten something.

"Griffin, I swear, if that's you and I get punched in the face again-" Adam pulled the door open and immediately got a faceful of holy water.

He blinked once, twice, then slowly wiped the water away from his eyes. And made a mental note not to answer a knock on the door ever again.

Sam and Dean stood in front of him. They looked older, a lot older. And Sam had apparently decided having enough hair to do a L'Oreal commercial was a fantastic idea.

Adam looked down at the empty flask in Dean's hand, then where Sam was already going for a silver knife, then at the flash of tan trench coat behind them both, and scowled.

"No!" He pointed a finger at them, like one might if they were trying to shame a dog. "I am having a _good day_ for the first time in _six centuries_ and you are _not_ ruining it for me! Get lost!"

Then he slammed the door in their faces.


End file.
